


If We Are All In The Gutter (It Doesn't Change Who We Are)

by ShippingEverything



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Flashbacks, Gen, Misgendering, Multi, Name Changes, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sex and Gender Swapping, Trans Character, i have a basic plot but im making this up as i go along, the reincarnation au that absolutely no one asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-22 14:40:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8289397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippingEverything/pseuds/ShippingEverything
Summary: When Moritz sees the bright red 67% on the top of his paper, his chest seizes. His first thought is Oh god, I failed, I’ll be kicked out of school, what will papa tell the men at the bank? which doesn’t make any sense because Moritz’s dad works at a construction company, not a bank, and one bad grade doesn’t define his whole academic career. A failed test is not the end of the world, He tells himself sternly over the low hum of his anxiety.Now if only his shaking hands would believe that. Or: It’s not 1891 anymore but that doesn’t mean life is easy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is my personal challenge! a short vignette depicting one of the kids in modern times via this weird reincarnation thing every single day. wish me tons of luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> michael is melchior (props to the terrible awakening of spring movie for that name), it should be obvious who the other character in this one is. i have a six year old brother who i talked to on the phone for three hours today, so thats why michael talks/acts the way he does
> 
> hope you enjoy!!!
> 
> melchior, age 6

Michael is six as he watches his new neighbors move in. He watches out the window all day as the movers bring box after box up the stairs and into the apartment complex without seeing the people that are to be his neighbors at all.

“Michael, darling,” His mother calls from somewhere else in their apartment, “Are you still at the window?”

“Yes, mama,” Michael replies without taking his eyes off the truck. He doesn’t know why, but he feels like it’s important for him to find out who’s moving in.

He hears his mother move around until she gets to him, sighing. “Sweetheart, I think they’re already in their apartment. The movers are just bringing in their stuff.”

Michael tears his eyes away and turns towards his mother, pouting. “But I wanted to meet them.”

“Tell you what, if you come to the kitchen with me then we can make some cookies to bring over to them tonight. How about it?”

Michael considers it. He wants to keep watching the movers, but if they’re already inside and this will give him the chance to meet them… “Okay, mama.”

His mother beams, taking Michael’s hand and leading him to the kitchen. She pulls out his step stool and the supplies that they’ll need. “We’ll make some chocolate chip cookies. Do you want to pour the chocolate chips, Michael?”

Michael bites his lip as he picks up the heavy bag of chocolate chips, trying to carefully pour some in. When he’s done, his mother smiles down at him and gives him instruction after instruction until the cookies are ready to go into the oven.

“It’ll just be twenty minutes,” She says, shooing Michael away, “Go read for a bit.”

Michael reluctantly goes to sit in the living room and reads. He loves reading and he has lots of interesting books but he wants to go over to the neighbor’s _right now_.

“Michael Green, I don’t hear any reading in there!”

“ _I am_ , mama!” Michael yells back, pouting. He pulls out his newest book, a story about a prince that defeats a dragon with things he learned from reading. He doesn’t really like the story but he likes the idea of knowing so much that he could defeat anything.

Eventually, his mother comes in with a plate of cookies.

“It’s time,” She says, and Michael nearly trips over himself to get his shoes on so they can go over.

The new neighbors have a sign on their door that says _RILEY_ in pretty letters and when Michael knocks on the door, he can hear people yelling inside. After a while the door is answered by a woman. The woman and Michael’s mother exchange words but what’s caught Michael’s eye is a girl that he can see peeking out from around a corner. She looks like she’s about Michael’s age, her dark hair in lots of tiny braids with beads on the end and her dark eyes suspicious.

“Who’s that?” Michael says suddenly, pointing and interrupting the adults. His mother frowns slightly at him, a soft admonishing _“Michael”_ escaping her lips, but the other woman just laughs.

“That’s my daughter. Johanna, come on out here!”

The girl slowly edges her way forward, looking like she wishes she was anywhere but here. The woman--Mrs. Riley, probably--looks down at her with a raised eyebrow. The girl frowns and looks at the ground, but she sticks out a hand and says, “Hello. My name is Johanna, nice to meet you.”

“I’m Michael,” Michael says, shaking her hand. He feels a shock when he touches her hand and, if it wouldn’t be rude and make his mother upset with him, he would yank his hand back. Instead he shakes her hand and says, “You can call me Mikey.”

Johanna lifts her head to look at him, confused. Michael is confused too. No one’s called him Mikey since his grandmother died last year and he’s not sure why he’s letting this girl call him that. Her frown lightens. “Melchi?”

“Um…” Michael tilts his head to the side. What she said sounds different than Mikey, but in a good way. Michael decides that he likes it. “Yeah, Melchi.”

Johanna smiles, finally. She leans in, looking at him conspiratorially. “My brothers call me Han, but my momma doesn’t like it. You can call me Han too, if you want.”

“Okay! We’re gonna be friends, right?”

Han nods fiercely. When their mothers make them separate so they can have dinner and baths, Han hugs Michaels tight enough to knock the breath out of him. “See you, Melchi.”

“Bye, Han,” Michael whispers in kind. They grin at each other as their led away.

 _This is going to be fun_ , Michael thinks, excited for what he and Han will do together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so now 2 pieces of the puzzle fall together,,, melchi and han, undividable urban best friendship
> 
> tmrw i think im gonna do smth w martha??? idk. but yeah! clearly everyone is not always the same sex and/or gender as they were in 1891 but its all cool, it'll all work out yall. it's gonna be an adventure


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> martha, age 11-ish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: martha is pronounced "marth-a" in this universe instead of the normal "mart-a"

Martha is on a school field trip to the zoo and the time has come to go to the gift shop. Martha’s mother gave her $20 and Martha has been deciding if she wants the otter plush or the dolphin one. None of her friends liked the otters but there was something about how it floated on it’s back sleepily that Martha just loved.

Just as Martha is reaching for the otter, Sparrow Anders calls out her name, her shrill voice grating on Martha’s ears, “They have your name!”

Martha frowns, following Sally’s voice to a display of flashing keychains. They do have her name, _Martha_ flashing in bright pink letters. The sight doesn’t excite Martha like it does for her classmates and friends, it just unsettles her, for some reason. Martha hums. “I think I’m going to get an otter.”

Sparrow makes a face. “An _otter_? But they all looked so _sad_ , not to mention how boring they were. The dolphins are cooler.”

“Otters are… soulful,” Martha says, surprised by her own choice of words but nodding at how they fit. “Sad, soulful sleepyheads.”

Sparrow rolls her eyes. “Well _I’m_ getting a flashing keychain, even though I have to settle for the one that just has a _S_ because they don’t have my name.”

Martha doesn’t really get it. She barely likes seeing her own name at the tops of her papers--much less owning a bright pink flashing keychain--so she doesn’t understand why Sparrow would want it but she still makes the sympathetic noise that she knows she’s supposed to make.

Martha runs back to the plushes and, after much deliberation and digging through the pile of otters, picks one with a loosely stitched face that makes it look even sadder than the rest of the plush otters. She holds it up to the light and smiles at it. Unprompted, she thinks of a wavy smile and messy hair and someone offering her melted chocolates. _Moreits_ , she thinks, but she shakes it out of her head in a second. She frowns and thinks, _What does that even mean?_ _I can’t name my otter some nonsense word that I just thought up_. She thinks about names as she brings her purchase to the counter.

“Otters are my favorite,” The lady at the counter smiles at Martha.

“Me too,” Martha smiles back, taking the otter once she’s paid, “But I still need to name them.”

The lady thinks for a moment, “Otto? It’s a bit cliche but it’s still cute.”

 _Otto the otter_ … Martha clicks her tongue. The name doesn’t fit as well as the nonsense name that she made up earlier but it still feels alright. “Yes, thank you!”

The shop lady waves to Martha as her class leaves the shop. Martha waves back with one of Otto’s paws. She’s glad that she choose the otter over the dolphin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sparrow is a ""npc"", as in just a filler character
> 
> i really like martha/moritz and idk if thats even gonna be a ship that we end up with but martha deffs was interested in moritz and i love that
> 
> ALSO IM HIGHKEY HINTING AT TRANS BOY MARTHA BUT ITS NOT TIME YET IM SO HYPE


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wendla age 9

“Sweetheart,” Wendla’s nanny says, “What are you drawing?”

Wendla grips her colored pencil tightly. She’s _nine years old_ , but her nanny talks to her like she’s a baby. “My dreams.”

“Wow, you must have a good memory, huh?” The nanny says, prodding. Wendla doesn’t respond. “What did you dream about?”

Wendla thins her lips. Her nanny won’t understand, no one will, but if Wendla doesn’t tell her _something_ , she’ll just keep pushing. “I dreamed… I was laying in a field. There was a huge tree, and a boy sat with me and we talked.”

The nanny hums. “Anything else?”

“I was a fairy queen,” Wendla says, softly. Not softly enough, apparently, because her nanny’s lips are pulled into a taunt frown when she glances up.

“Now, Gregory-”

“Wendla,” Wendla interrupts. “My name is Wendla.”

“ _Gregory_ ,” The nanny stresses, sighing, “If your mother finds out that you’ve been speaking nonsense again-”

“It’s _not_ nonsense! It’s me! It’s who I’ve always been, it’s just that no one else ever remembers!” Wendla _always_ remembers. No matter who she’s supposed to be, she always knows that she was once Wendla Bergmann. Now she lives in a big suburban house in America with a nanny and her mama is a CEO and nothing is the same but she’s _still Wendla Bergmann_.

“No raising your voice,” The nanny says, face taunt, “Go to your room. Your mother will hear about this.”

Wendla stomps up the stairs and goes to her bed. She doesn’t cry, because she has cried enough tears over her lifetimes; she lays back on her bed, closes her eyes, and wills herself to sleep.

In her dreams, at least, she’s who she is meant to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CACKLES LOUDLY  
> yes, wendla is the only kid to 100% remember reincarnating. my poor daughter.
> 
> AND TRANS GIRL WENDLA FUCK ME UP
> 
> all the kids will eventually use their sa canon names after theyre ""awakened"" but we have some bg to set before that. we've only seen 3/12 kids so far yall


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> georg age 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so who knew that you could get alcohol poisoning and aggressive sickness in the same week? basically this week+college+sickness have been KICKING MY ASS but listen i have 3 chaps half done so im GETTING BACK ON THE HORSE
> 
> v short im sry

George can’t play the piano.

He _can_ , sort of, but he can’t play advanced pieces because his short and stubby fingers can’t reach all the notes he'd need to create intense and beautiful music. He stares down at his small hands and frowns. His mother and his father, neither of whom can play the piano, don’t understand his anguish.

“You didn’t even _like_ playing the piano,” His mother frowns, her stocky arms akimbo. “You complained every time we brought you to lessons.”

George scowls, “But that doesn’t mean that I didn’t _want_ to play.”

His mother rolls her eyes and walks off, muttering about _‘whiny boys’_. George’s father shrugs. “Sorry, kid, you just don’t have the genes for it.”

George truly doesn’t know why it’s such a big deal. George’s short, olive fingers tense. He closes his eyes and it’s almost like he can see long lily-white fingers moving swiftly over the keys of a piano, hear the beautiful sounds of a symphony, and he _misses it_ , as much as one can miss something they’ve never known.

“I didn’t like it, not _really_ ,” George tells his friend at lunch the next day.

“Then why did you?” His friend asks, and George doesn’t know how to say _‘Because it felt like something that I should be doing’_ without sounding ridiculous, so he just shrugs.

“My teacher was hot, I guess,” He says and he can’t stop himself, like something is forcing the words out of his mouth, “She had these _boobs_ , I mean _god_.”

His friend snorts, “Yeah, man, I’d take piano for a pair of tits.”

George laughs along but somewhere under his skin he’s uncomfortable. His piano teacher, Mrs. Howard, was like ninety years old and looked like a rotted watermelon at the best of times, but George still couldn’t get the image of a young, pretty woman leaning over the top of the piano and all but shoving George’s head into her cleavage. _Weird as fuck_ , he thinks and shakes it off. Whatever. It’s not the end of the world, he just can’t play piano.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> moritz age 15

It’s not test day. That’s what Moritz has to keep telling himself as he jiggles his leg in his seat and watches the sub struggle with the papers she’s supposed to hand out. _We’re just getting it back, it’s okay, it’s not test day_.

It was only a small quiz, something he can even retake later, but Moritz can’t stop the nervous energy thrumming through his veins. _I can’t fail, I can’t fail, I can’t fail_.

“Mo- Mu- Meu-reetz?”

“Moritz,” Moritz says from his seat, resisting the urge to sigh and raising a hand. This happens _every single time_ , even though his name is more or less spelled exactly how it’s pronounced. When he was younger, he’d ask his parents why they gave him such a weird name, but apparently it was the name of one of his great-times-a-hundred relatives on his moms side and they wanted to _‘Honor the dead’_ or whatever. He gets their intent, really, but _they_ don’t have to be the Thai kid named _Moritz_.   
“Are you German?” The sub asks as she hands Moritz his quiz. He laughs before he can stop himself, going red when people turn to him.

“No,” He says, “I’ve actually, um, never gotten that before.”

The sub frowns. “It’s a German name.”

“Uh,” Moritz says, blinking at her. She doesn’t move, she just stands there and frowns at him. His hands start to sweat. “Everyone in my family is Thai, that I know of.”

“Weird…” The sub sighs and trails off before moving on and calling the next name.

“Weird,” Moritz echoes. He stares after her for a second before shaking himself and looking down at the test in his hands. When Moritz sees the bright red 67% on the top of his paper, his chest seizes. His first thought is _Oh god, I failed, I’ll be kicked out of school, what will papa tell the men at the bank?_ which doesn’t make any sense because Moritz’s dad works at a construction company, not a bank, and one bad grade doesn’t define his whole academic career. _A failed test is not the end of the world_ , He tells himself sternly, over the loud buzz of anxiety.

Now if only his shaking hands would believe that.

“Oh, wait! Moritz,” The sub says, swooping in and taking the quiz out of his hands, “I gave you the wrong paper.”

Moritz’s new paper has a 82% on top, right next to his own shaky handwriting spelling out his name, which is a _B_ but it’s good for a quiz that he didn’t study too much for. _I’ll retake it next week_ , He thinks, then, _How did she mix up my paper?_ There’s no one else with a similar name to him in class and he’s certainly the only dark-skinned Asian boy in their class. He shrugs it off. It’s not like there’s a plot to make him think he failed out of school.

Moritz snorts at the thought. That’d be ridiculous.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> otto age 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay warnings: otto is a trans dude and is misgendered a Lot. otto's reaction is different than wendlas was like 3 chaps ago in that he doesnt correct the person misgendering him/it doesnt seem to give him dysphoria

“I dream I’m a merman sometimes,” Otto says to his therapist. She frowns.

“That’s not what I asked, Odette.”

“ **Yes, but it’s so much more interesting** ,” Otto says in perfect, rural accented German and smiles at her confused face.

“I thought you were taking English as your language at school.”

Otto shrugs and looks out the window. He forgets sometimes that he’s in France. He thinks of a pretty girl with deeply tanned skin and green eyes, of a boy with glasses and music in his bones, and he hopes that they’re here in France, too.

“Odette,” The therapist says, “Your parents want progress.”

“My parents want lots of things,” He says, shortly. The dress he’s wearing, the uniform for his private school, is scratchy and uncomfortable. He can’t wait to be home and to change into jeans and a loose t-shirt, to stop being pretty, smart, perfect little Odette and to start being himself.

She sighs in response, leaning back in her fancy highbacked chair. “Otto-”

“Yes,” Otto snaps his head towards her, attentive and holding her gaze for the first time in _months_ , which is quite a long time when they have three hour-long sessions a week.

The therapist visibly deflates. “You know you can’t keep insisting on that name. Your parents won’t allow it.”

“My step-father won’t allow it,” He says, “My mother supports me.”

His mother buys him proper clothes and calls him her ‘strong boy’ when his step-father isn’t around. His step-father is an angry man, not good enough for Otto’s mother in his opinion, but Otto’s mother loves him and Otto supposes he can’t do anything about that; Otto’s step-father is the only reason he goes to this therapist, because he thinks there’s something wrong with Otto. There’s nothing wrong, if you discount the fact that he can speak flawless German without tutoring on the subject, and if you discount how he sometimes turns to tell jokes to a friend that isn’t there, and if you discount the dreams about being a merman and the dreams he has about dying in a storm at sea and the dreams he has about a boy and a girl that both love him deeply and want him to be theirs.

Otto huffs. He wishes he could be dreaming right now. “Fine. I’ve been fine, the girls at school have stopped teasing me and now just ignore me, my mother and I made rumkugeln last weekend.”

“Rom-kool-gen?”

“Rum balls,” Otto simplifies, “ **I keep forgetting to switch to French**.”

“Odette!” His therapist scolds, “Stop doing that!”

Otto shrugs. He will if he can remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whats that? i cant hear u over the sound of me shipping polyam georg/otto/marianna wheelan
> 
> did marianna reincarnate??? truly who knows (like seriously who knows i havent decided yet. shes deffs not getting a chapter--i havent even decided if melitta is gonna get a chapter yet--but does she even _exist_ in the present? who knows


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hanschen age 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yet another visit from our favorite (and only???? actually wait missy lives in the city too scratch that) urban kiddos
> 
> Johanna is referred to as Han for the whole piece (she will _eventually_ become Hanschen dw yall), and she also refers to Melchior/Michael as Melchi nearly the whole time, mostly because she's never legitimately called him anything else.

“We’re going to get in trouble!” Han whisper-shouts at Melchi as they sneak out of Melchi’s room late at night.

“You weren’t complaining last week,” Melchi says back. His voice is, in Han’s opinion,  _ much _ too loud. She shushes him and he shushes her back, which leads to both of them shushing each other in increasingly louder voices until there’s the sound of movement from the direction of Melchi’s mom’s room. Both of them freeze, Han’s heart stopping in her chest. If they’re caught, she won’t be in  _ trouble _ , persay, because Melchi’s mom doesn’t really believe in punishments, but it’ll be harder to get her to agree to more sleepovers.

Melchi is muttering something under his breath as the noises approach them. Right as Han turns to elbow Melchi in the side and tell him to  _ shut up _ , once and for all, the noises stop. 

“Oh, thank god,” Melchi says, sighing, “I had really thought it was my-  _ ohmy _ -”

Han firmly slaps a hand over Melchi’s mouth. The noises were, apparently, the Green’s new kitten wandering around, and when she made her way around the corner, both of them had jumped but only Melchi had tried to  _ yell _ . “You’re going to get us caught, dummy!”

Melchi licks her hand and Han pulls back, disgusted. “Stop being so negative,” He says, “Come on!”

Han rolls her eyes but she still follows Melchior out of the apartment, even if she stoops down to pet the kitten on the way out. “Do you think they locked it?”

“As if!” Melchi scoffs, shedding even the illusion of an inside voice now that they’re in less danger of being caught by parents. “They never lock it.”

The two of them walk down the dim, empty hallway and into the service stairwell. It’s technically supposed to be locked at all times, but they’ve snuck up here seven times and and they’ve never been met with resistance. The stairwell is dusty and dark, the corny spy music that Melchi’s humming bouncing off the echo-y walls. 

“You’re a nerd,  _ Michael _ ,” Han says.

Melchi turns back and sticks his tongue out at her. “I’m not the one that keeps asking to sneak out to look at the  _ stars _ and sit on the roof,  _ Johanna _ . In the movies, the kids sneak out to go do  _ cool things _ .”

“Fine,” Han sniffs, running past Melchi on the stairs, “Then I’ll enjoy the stars on my  _ own _ , I don’t need you at all!”

“Hey, wait up!”

They race up the rest of the stairs, Han’s natural athleticism putting her on an even field with Melchi’s longer limbs. They crash onto the roof in a tangle of playful elbowing and noise, before Han shushes Melchi. They take their seats on the hard gravel roof with silence between them. The city isn’t silent, Han doesn’t think their city could  _ ever _ be silent, but it’s quiet enough in the lull between early morning and night that birds can be heard with only the occasional sound of a car screeching by on the pockmarked streets, and the sky is still blue enough that the few stars that they get over the city are visible as ever. 

“Look, there’s the Friend Tree,” Melchi exclaims, roughly gesturing to one of their made up constellations.

“And the Brook and the Desk and... the Angel,” Han joins in. Not all of their created constellations are visible, but enough that they grin at each other. Not all of them have stories--most of them don’t, in fact--but The Angel had the most complex story of all of them. It was all Melchi’s creation--a story about a boy that failed out of school and got really sick, and the stars gave him a way to save himself and get better but it also meant claiming him as their own, so he’d have to leave all his friends and family and live amongst the stars forever--but it’s one that they both love.

“Why did the Angel decide to go with the stars, anyway?” Han asks after a while.

Melchi is quiet for long enough that Han considers asking the question again, before he looks up and sighs. “He thought they’d be better without him.”

“And…?” Han asks. Melchi turns to her, a frown on his face. She rolls her eyes. “Were they better? Without him, that is.”

Melchi scoffs. “Of course not. They all cried for him, and he had to watch from the sky with no way to tell them he was okay.

“That’s… really sad,” Han says, a bit shocked.

Melchi shrugs. Han frowns at him, but he resolutely avoids her eye so she doesn’t push the subject. Han sighs. Sometimes, she thinks that Melchi is a million miles away, seeing and knowing things that no one else does, and she wishes she could see too. For now, though, she’ll just have to make do with the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woooo star metaphors how #fake deep of me
> 
> also they live in new orleans?? i just decided this as i was writing this chapter. im making this whole thing up as i go along yall

**Author's Note:**

> [Main Tumblr (liveinlivingcolor)](http://www.liveinlivingcolor.tumblr.com) | [Writing Tumblr (nacreousglowclouds)](http://nacreousglowclouds.tumblr.com/) | [Personal Twitter (@squidias)](http://twitter.com/squidias)


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